Jiao He wept deeply,
Wu Gou leads Mo Chen.
The place where the water flows from the curved wine cup,
Qingming Festival is full of Kunlun.
A poem handed down from ancient times, a catastrophe at the beginning of the world, entangled the fate of three people
She smiled brightly and brightly, and for a moment, she confused some young man.
He is as gentle as jade, as light as the wind, as if he is here or away
He is as bright as a star, smiling as warm as the sun, waiting silently
finally
He said, Xiaoshui, can you smile at me again?
He said, Ruoshui, what I owe you, have you paid it back?
She smiled silently, turned around and left, leaving no trace as if the water had passed by.